The Many Things I Knew About Donna Noble
by i need sleep
Summary: She doesn't remember her adventures with me all over the universe. Her travels through time. Her heroic deeds. It's bittersweet, really. Many planets out there will be singing praises in her name, but the woman herself will never remember.


**The Many Things I Knew About Donna Noble  
A Doctor Who Fanfic  
by: ** i need sleep

* * *

**AN: **My first Doctor Who fanfic. Please don't be too hard on me! I haven't seen the series, (especially season 4) in ages. I felt like putting this up though, cause I got the idea last night.

If you find anything I said wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me.

I will have to warn you that this isn't revised in any way. XD I might do that later actually.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Doctor Who.

* * *

**The Many Things I Knew About Donna Noble**

Donna Noble, my fiery, ginger companion.

Donna Noble of the DoctorDonna, saviour of the Ood.

Donna Noble, the supertemp.

And of course, Donna Noble, the friend.

Did you know Donna loved snow? I remember taking her to the Ood's frozen kingdom and, despite the cold (very, very, very cold) weather she looked absolutely ecstatic to be there.

Well, she stopped looking ecstatic when we found the dying Ood and when she got locked in a massive box with crazed ones while I was outside, playing catch with the guard.

But you get my point.

Donna loved to read, and not just those rubbish things you call "magazines". The TARDIS was more that happy to supply her with books, of course. Her massive library has long since been used, you see. Rassilon knows I'm too busy to sit still, let alone hold a book and read it. Rose wasn't very keen on reading, and Martha was more often than not found in the TARDIS' massive "entertainment" room.

I bet you didn't know Agatha Christie was a favourite of hers.

Donna Noble had a strange fondness for hats. I know better than to call it a hat fetish because last time I'd done that, I got my elbow "playfully" slapped. Playful as that was, it hurt immensely, but Donna was quick to reprimand me and I was then told to "suck it up," like a man would, apparently, not really knowing the implications of her words.

But maybe she did, I wouldn't really know.

Donna's deathly afraid of spiders, but I suppose that's only rational, right? I can't blame her. Getting dumped for a giant one is bad enough, but almost getting fed to a lot of tiny, tiny (but still pretty big) spiders must've caused a fair bit of psychological trauma that then lead to formation of her arachnophobia. Maybe also the feeling of unwantedness. You know, for the whole "dumping for a giant spider queen" ordeal. Yeah.

Wait, is "unwantedness" even a word?

She missed (and maybe still does) her father, I knew that too. But never did she ask to see him alive, and never had she thought of saying yes when I offered, countless times. The pain would be too much, she said, when I told her about Rose and her father.

"If I were in her place, I'd do the same thing," she told me one time at breakfast. "Ya know, you shouldn't really have offered in the first place."

I tried to defend myself, of course. But she dismissed me. Am I really that easy to dismiss? "You could've done something else to impress Rose, you know. Maybe name a star after her or something!"

I grumbled under my breath. I wasn't trying to impress her… Maybe I was, but I guess it just didn't… work the way I wanted it to, like most things I plan. I found myself sporting a large, purple bruise that looked strangely like Japan, I noted, on my leg, merely minutes after.

I wonder if she played football. She would've been good at booting the ball, or the other players.

Donna is awfully stubborn. If she doesn't like it and no good will come off it, she won't do it. Even if you offer her a million, a billion, a trillion of money. Well, any currency, really, seeing as we did a fair bit of travelling around and out of the earth and shouldn't really be restricted to dollars and euro and notes and coins and sheep…

Donna is outspoken. If she doesn't like you, she'll tell you. If she's confused, she'll tell you. If she's hurt, she'll say. And if she thinks you're an idiot, you will be, in her eyes. Don't worry. You won't be the only one. I do think she branded me an idiot.

Donna, Donna. What else can be said about Miss Noble, now Mrs Noble-Temple?

I meant Temple-Noble. But you have to admit, "Noble-Temple" sounds funny.

She's perceptive, I'll give her that.

And Rassilon, was she LOUD. I used to be able to hear her voice, loud and clear, from _anywhere_ in the TARDIS. She constantly yelled about something or other, and I found myself sometimes annoyed with her loudness.

When she… left, though, I found myself missing it.

And the source.

I miss Donna as much as I miss Rose. And Martha. And Sarah-Jane, and Astrid, and Jamie, and Romana, and Susan, and every companion I've ever had. Every friend I'd ever trusted enough to take on numerous adventures, or even just one.

And as I stepped out into the chilly, crisp air, glancing at the church, I found myself smiling. Another wedding, this one real; for love and not spider queens. Donna deserves it, after all she's been through. I mean, a human can only go through so much, but, well, I'd never know because I'm a Time Lord and not human… Though it can be argued, I mean, I look human. I suppose that amounts to something…

_Anyway._

Donna doesn't remember me anymore, so here I am, standing outside the church, uninvited. She doesn't remember – and hopefully, she never will, for the sake of her poor brain – her adventures with me all over the universe. Her travels through time. Her heroic deeds. It's bittersweet, really. Many planets out there, in the future and from the past, would be singing praises in her name.

Yet, the woman, herself, will never know. Will never remember.

Can't ever remember.

This feels strange, thinking all that, waiting as time passed so slowly. _Is it really meant to go this slow?_ I don't trust going on another adventure far into the planet of something or other just to pass the 5 Earthly minutes I can just spend, by myself, taking a break.

Thinking all of that… it seems like a eulogy of sorts. A speech for a funeral.

But Donna's not dying.

I am.

Gingerly (Oh, how I long to be ginger. I wish I'd done something about that.), I took the ticket out of my pocket and stood by Wilfred's line of sight.

No use in delaying the inevitable.

* * *

**A.N: **Explanations and justifications. I tried my best to not get too far off tangents because everyone knows the Doctor likes to babble a lot and can get off topic sometimes.

Obviously, this was set on the... The (first or second part, I can never remember) _End of Time._ Hence the slightly... angst-y end bit.

I don't know what else to clarify, so I'm going to post this and just answer your questions to the best of my limited ability when they come.

**_E_****dit: **_This is for Aprille, one of my bestest friends, who had told me to write a DW fanfic because she noticed I haven't yet._


End file.
